


Studies for A Wizard At Rest

by mardia



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Art, Domestic Fluff, False Value Spoilers, Gen, Post-False Value
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: It's an accepted fact that Foxglove's favorite model to draw is Peter.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 139





	Studies for A Wizard At Rest

**Author's Note:**

> If I got any art terms wrong, my sincere apologies! Still working out the kinks in writing ROL fic post-Lies Sleeping.

It's an accepted fact that Foxglove's favorite model to draw is Peter. 

Thomas is reminded of it once again when he looks over from his lesson plans for Abigail to see Peter fast asleep in an armchair, and Foxglove sitting across from him, furiously sketching away. 

Peter's dead to the world--the twins are teething, poor things, and Peter's been going through sleepless nights as a result, or so Beverley had told him, when she called and practically ordered Thomas to get Peter out of the house before he started creating graphs to chart the twins' development.

Thomas had immediately obliged, picking Peter up in the Jaguar and cheerfully lying that he wanted a second opinion on the syllabus. Peter's suspicious looks were dulled by the obvious exhaustion on his face, and once he was back in the Folly, it only took the space of a moment before he'd collapsed in the most comfortable armchair, promising that he was just going to rest his eyes for a moment, before yawning and falling asleep almost immediately. 

Thomas had just smiled quietly, sent a quick text to Beverley that just read, _Objective accomplished_ with an attached photograph for evidence. He'd gotten down to work quietly, and by the time that he’s just about finished for the day, Peter is still asleep, but Foxglove has slipped into the room and started work on what is sure to be another painting of Peter.

Foxglove carefully reaches out with one long pale hand to adjust the spread of Peter's fingers on the armrest--Thomas holds his breath, but Peter doesn't even stir, and Foxglove nods sharply to herself in satisfaction before turning back to her sketchbook. 

It's a quiet scene, Peter's chest rising and falling with each slow breath, the only sound in the room that of Foxglove's pencil busily scratching over her canvas,a and for a long while, Thomas doesn't do anything but watch, taking the sight in. 

Eventually, his curiosity overwhelms him though, and Thomas gets up and carefully, quietly, moves to look over Foxglove's shoulder, murmuring a low, "May I?" even though he knows full well by now that Foxglove doesn't care about people observing her at work, so long as she's not stopped from working.

The sketch itself is excellent, Peter brought to life on the canvas with a few quick lines, Foxglove spending closer time on the hands and the face, but Thomas finds himself oddly enthralled at seeing Peter like this, his face open in sleep and his body completely at rest, soundly asleep within the Folly's walls.

It's a sight that Thomas had grown used to occasionally seeing, when Peter resided here--Peter dozing over his books over a late night of cramming in his Latin, or Peter curled up on the couch in front of the television, the light flickering over his face as Thomas went up into the tech cave to see where his apprentice had gone to. 

Things and times change, of course, they have to, and Thomas wouldn't trade any of this for those long-gone days of dormancy, the Folly stagnant and still--but he will own, if only to himself, that sometimes he misses the early days of Peter's apprenticeship, the shared meals, the sound of his footsteps on the stairs--

Thomas wouldn't change the present for anything, but surely it doesn't hurt to admit some wistfulness for the past. 

When Thomas finally looks up again from the sketchpad, it's not to the sight of Peter sleeping peacefully in the chair, but Peter sleepily blinking at both him and Foxglove, so drowsy still that he's not jumping away in surprise at Thomas and Foxglove lurking over him in this manner. 

Surprised, Thomas blurts out, "Good Lord, are you awake?"

"Mmhm," Peter confirms, blinking slowly. "Foxglove, can I move yet?"

Foxglove quickly shakes her head, moving to a new blank page--apparently this new attitude of Peter's, drowsy but awake, is simply too much to resist. 

Peter hums in acknowledgement, then glances back at Thomas without moving his head--he knows by now, of course, what Foxglove likes in a model. "How long was I out?"

Thomas checks his watch. "About an hour."

"Jesus," Peter groans. "I just meant to have a catnap."

"It seemed like you could use the rest," Thomas offers, as neutrally as he can, but Peter looks skeptical. Or as skeptical as he can look, given that he's only half-awake still. 

"Yeah, well, between the twins, work, and everything else on my plate, something's got to give, and my sleep cycle is it."

"Hmm," Thomas says, disapproving. "What else is on your plate?"

"What, do you want an itemized list?" Peter jokes. 

"Yes, actually, that would be excellent," Thomas says, blithely ignoring Peter's splutters, and glancing again over Foxglove's shoulder to see the quick studies she's done of Peter's changing facial expressions, each one distinct and true-to-life.

"I'd forgotten what it was like to pose for you," Peter says, addressing Foxglove next. That gets Foxglove's attention like nothing else, as she peers over her sketchpad to give Peter a speaking look, quite obviously saying, _Yes, and whose fault is that?_ without actually having to utter a word. 

"It's not like I can come over on the chance you'll be out of models and need me around," Peter protests, injured. 

"Then come over for the company," Thomas offers.

Peter looks at Thomas, expression thoughtful, and Thomas thinks he might have just revealed more than he meant to--even if it's still true. After a moment, Peter sinks back into the armchair, relaxing, and says, "Company's not so bad. Just so long as Molly doesn't try and shove whiskey down the sprogs' throats--"

Thomas, who has heard all about Molly's suggestions for treating the teething and Peter's vehement esponse, laughs even as he pinches the bridge of his nose, because he can see a repeat of this argument coming for him in the future, and he is not looking forward to it. "Peter, I'm sure even my parents occasionally dosed me with whiskey as a child to treat my gums--"

"Why are you saying that like it's a recommendation?" Peter asks. "The Victorians put arsenic and lead in everything, I'm not looking to follow their parenting examples!"

"A drop of whiskey on the gums isn't the same--"

"So you're _defending_ it?" Peter demands, outraged, and Thomas only lasts a second before bursting out into laughter. Peter's outraged expression wavers, bends, before finally breaking, as he starts to laugh too, at himself and at the entire absurd argument. 

"Beverley's right," Thomas says, still chuckling. "You are the overprotective one."

"I prefer to think of it as the one with common sense and a healthy respect for experts," Peter replies, before adding, "But yeah, I can bring the twins over more often." He looks back to Foxglove and adds, "You can learn how to sketch subjects that don't sit still when you tell them to."

From the toothy grin appearing on Foxglove's face, she's looking forward to it just as much as Thomas is.

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say, I am on Peter’s side—don’t dose babies with alcohol! This is the extent of my knowledge about babies.


End file.
